Falling Flowers
by Red River
Summary: Complete. A series of brief moments, each one leading Zhao Yun and Jiang Wei further from friendship and closer to something more. Zhao Yun x Jiang Wei.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Originally done as a request, this story is a series of short moments that, together, show the transformation of Zhao Yun and Jiang Wei's relationship from friendship to romance. The emphasis in this story's creation was on imagery and emotion, which is why the plot remained extremely simple throughout. In either case—my first time experimenting with this pairing, and though I don't foresee writing about them again in the near future, I suppose it's not impossible.

Pairing: Zhao Yun x Jiang Wei

Warnings: None.

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**Falling Flowers**

_First Day_

The boy was new. Zhao Yun could tell by the wide, staring eyes in his smooth face and the spear he was gripping just a little too tightly in both hands. There was no mistaking the blank surprise flickering across the young man's features with each tense step he took, every aspect of the bustling Shu camp around him lighting his expression like a brief firefly before another took its place.

The Little Dragon recognized that expression – the same one he had worn all those years ago upon first setting foot in Gongsun Zan's encampment, awed by the motion and the noise and the purpose of the rushing soldiers all around him. The mirror image of his younger self trailing behind the Prime Minister's silk robes made Zhao Yun smile, and he stood carefully from the stool where he'd been cleaning his armor, his hair whispering around him like waving grass as Zhuge Liang's voice reached his waiting ears.

"…this area is for the quarters of our most distinguished warriors. We hope your own tent will someday rest beside theirs, Jiang Wei."

Jiang Wei – the young warrior, his knuckles white with excitement and apprehension – dropped to one knee, his gentle head tipped forward in a reverent bow. Zhao Yun watched his face with careful black eyes. A nod, a blink – two lips pressed together in nervousness that wasn't showing in his smile.

"Yes, Prime Minister. I'm honored to be invited into your army. I swear to do my utmost in your service."

Zhuge Liang's mouth twitched into a waiting smirk, one his fan quickly hid from the prying eyes of the soldiers on all sides. The white feathers glistened like new-fallen raindrops in the sun, overshadowing the clever eyes and quicker smile behind them.

"I expect much of you, Jiang Wei. Do not forget that you have been hand-picked as my successor. I ask you to do nothing that might ridicule my choice."

Zhao Yun frowned just a little. There were things he had never liked about the Prime Minister of Shu, though he'd acknowledged the man's untouchable brilliance the minute he met him. There was an undercurrent of darkness to Zhuge Liang that stuck in Zhao Yun's mind; a quiet thread of cunning, of coldness, that made the Dragon of Changshan stiffen in his stance. Made him wonder whether the young man – Jiang Wei, with his open smile, his nervous fingers – deserved the heavy hand of the renowned strategist as his guiding light…

Jiang Wei didn't hear it – the cold tone, the thread of condescension. Zhao Yun could tell just by looking at him. There was nothing but admiration in the young warrior's expression, nothing but honesty in his voice as he bowed once more.

"Yes, Prime Minister. I wouldn't dare. I swear I shall dedicate my every moment here to honoring your expectations."

A step; a smile. A serpent's chuckle without any malice. Zhuge Liang brushed the strands of his flowing hair over one shoulder and turned away from his new apprentice, the edges of his fan wavering in the breeze.

"Then I shall trust you with my legacy. It is a heavy burden, Jiang Wei. I pray you are up to the task of carrying it."

Jiang Wei kept his head bowed, his spear flat as driftwood against the ground as the Prime Minister's steps moved away from him. Zhuge Liang's voice fell like a heavy cloak behind him, dismissing the young man with the same force as his unhurried footsteps.

"I have matters I must attend to at this time. Please make yourself familiar with the camp and its occupants. I shall expect you at sunrise tomorrow."

Jiang Wei nodded hard, though there was no one to see him now – no one but Zhao Yun, his softly disapproving eyes fixed on Zhuge Liang's retreating back.

"Yes, sir. I will, sir. Thank you."

His voice was higher than it had been minutes ago, tension and uncertainty changing the tone just as they were changing the virulent nature of his eyes. Jiang Wei waited for a response, but there was none – Zhuge Liang was gone, vanished like a cloud into the tide of soldiers changing around them.

Slowly, the young warrior got to his feet, brushing dirt from his knees as his long, thin ponytail careened over one shoulder and lay like leather against his neck. He stood silent as a statue, spear in hand, his brown eyes chasing the wind rippling through the tents on every side of him, searching for a direction in the endless faces of those around him.

Zhao Yun found that he was moving forward, his feet flattening the earth beneath them as he made his way across the campsite toward the abandoned warrior. Jiang Wei looked up at his movement, and Zhao Yun froze, startled by the depth and openness of the eyes that were suddenly staring into his.

A feeling like snow slid down his spine in the form of a soft shiver, but the Little Dragon shook it away, moving forward again until nothing but a matter of steps separated him from the young warrior. Jiang Wei straightened, his back stiffening as one hand rose to chase his bangs away. The silence stretched between them like a glass ribbon, the eyes of each man daring the other to speak first. And at last Zhao Yun obliged, bowing his head as something that felt like a sunflower began unleashing its petals within him.

"My name is Zhao Yun Zilong. May I ask yours?"

Jiang Wei smiled, his expression brushing one of the newly open petals against the Little Dragon's lungs. The young warrior nodded, his eyes tracing the older man's features as though studying a ray of sunlight out of an overcast sky.

"Jiang Wei, styled Boyue. I am honored to meet you."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Originally done as a request, this story is a series of short moments that, together, show the transformation of Zhao Yun and Jiang Wei's relationship from friendship to romance. The emphasis in this story's creation was on imagery and emotion, which is why the plot remained extremely simple throughout. In either case—my first time experimenting with this pairing, and though I don't foresee writing about them again in the near future, I suppose it's not impossible.

Pairing: Zhao Yun x Jiang Wei

Warnings: None.

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**Falling Flowers**

_First Night_

There was something about the stars. Jiang Wei had always liked the stars. Looking up at the stars was like looking into a deep, shady pool with fragments of silver at the bottom – a pool so still that not a single ripple startled the clear water.

That wasn't why he was awake at midnight, craning his neck to catch familiar constellations from his seat on an abandoned crate. But it was some consolation for the sleep he wasn't getting, and a little soothing to the current of anxiousness winding like a restless flag through his stomach.

He wasn't in the wrong place. He hadn't joined the wrong side. Liu Bei was righteous, and Shu's mission was just, and the Prime Minister was so wise…

But nonetheless.

Everything was different from Tian Shui. And even in the midst of a camp full of friendly, welcoming soldiers, Jiang Wei couldn't help feeling a little lonely for the friends he had left behind by deserting Wei's ranks. They had been good people, even if the ruler they followed was a domineering despot…

"Jiang Wei?"

The young man started a little, looking up through the soft steam of his breath to see Liu Bei's finest warrior standing just a little to his right, a flask held in his steady hand. Jiang Wei sat up straighter on his crate, inclining his head to the legendary general as calm steps closed the distance between them.

"General Zhao Yun… forgive me for bothering you. I'll be going…"

Zhao Yun raised a hand before the young man could rise from his seat, and through the darkness Jiang Wei could see a gentle smile covering his lips, his amusement trickling through the thin air in the form of a light chuckle.

"Please, Jiang Wei. I'd prefer if you called me Zilong. And you aren't bothering me. I was actually looking for you."

Jiang Wei nodded again, his eyes widening a little at the permission to call this famous hero by his personal title. "Zilong… then please call me Boyue as well. May I ask why you were seeking me?"

Zhao Yun smiled again, and Jiang Wei moved over a little so that the other warrior could fall into a seat at his side, long black ponytail scattering over his muscled shoulders. The general sighed, closing his eyes for a moment before they came open to fix on the quiet gaze across from his.

"I just thought you might need a friend."

Jiang Wei blinked, surprised to hear the words he had been thinking himself coming from the other man's mouth. Then he felt himself smiling, and he turned his eyes back to the radiant sky, feeling more than seeing the figure at his side.

"You were right."

Something pressed against the young warrior's fingers, and Jiang Wei looked down to see the Little Dragon's flask being held out to him, its owner still smiling beneath the soft glow of the stars. For a few minutes, the two passed the small container back and forth, and Jiang Wei held the liquor in his mouth as long as he could before swallowing, letting the warmth flicker across his tongue like a pile of lazy coals.

At last Zhao Yun sighed, and the general rose to his feet, extending one hand to help his companion off of the box. Jiang Wei accepted, and for the split second that his hand was locked in its opposite, the young man couldn't help thinking that Zhao Yun's fingers were like flower petals, thin all the way to his palm but curving in a perfect arc around his own, soft in spite of the calluses. Then the Little Dragon let go, and Jiang Wei pulled his hand back, trying to forget the feeling of flower petals on his skin.

"It's time to turn in, I'm afraid. It won't be long until Zhang Fei stumbles out here in a drunken stupor, and I don't think we'd like to be around to see that. Sleep well, Boyue."

Jiang Wei nodded, catching himself just short of a shallow bow and directing his eyes up to his comrade's deep gaze instead. "Yes… Zilong. You, too."

Zhao Yun smiled again, and the breeze blew his hair into a long stream behind him, making the tangled strands seem almost like tatters of the night sky itself as he turned and walked away into the silent camp. Jiang Wei watched his retreat, and then leaned back against the crate with a heavy exhale, staring at his palm with thoughtful eyes.

He wondered what Zhao Yun had felt when their hands came together. He wondered if the Little Dragon felt flower petals as well. And if he did, Jiang Wei wondered what kind of flowers he'd felt – and whether that feeling had made him as warm and anxious as it had made the younger man.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Originally done as a request, this story is a series of short moments that, together, show the transformation of Zhao Yun and Jiang Wei's relationship from friendship to romance. The emphasis in this story's creation was on imagery and emotion, which is why the plot remained extremely simple throughout. In either case—my first time experimenting with this pairing, and though I don't foresee writing about them again in the near future, I suppose it's not impossible.

Pairing: Zhao Yun x Jiang Wei

Warnings: None.

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**Falling Flowers**

_First Rain_

It was the season for storms, after all. Zhao Yun stood in the doorway of the mess tent, staring out across the sweeping plains and the hills in the far distance, each of them rising softly as though it were afraid to touch the overcast sky.

Today, the Little Dragon could hardly fault them – the sky barely looked at a sky at all, resembling instead the surface of a restless ocean viewed from underneath, every foggy shade blending into the next like infinite breaking waves. The thunder had stopped now, but the rain continued, muddying the ground ahead of him and whispering damp secrets across his ears.

Zhao Yun sighed and drew a sopping breath to hold inside his chest, feeling the rain slide down his throat as strongly as if he'd truly been sipping the gale. Soft footsteps on the packed earth behind him opened the Dragon Warrior's eyes, and he let his breath escape again, now little more than a puff of steam.

"Boyue?"

The footsteps halted behind him, and Zhao Yun felt himself smiling into the rain-washed silence. Shu's newest warrior and strategist had only been with them a week, but already Zhao Yun was learning the feel of the other's movements – coming to memorize the sounds that he made as he moved around camp, and to recognize their approach.

Perhaps it was because Jiang Wei's steps reminded him of falling flowers; every footfall was like a full blossom hitting the ground, so soft and so sure it was hard to be certain you'd actually heard it.

"Zilong… am I bothering you?"

Zhao Yun chuckled a little, turning away from the rain at last to meet the anxious eyes of the friend he was slowly making. Jiang Wei shifted in his stance, but his hands relaxed as the older warrior shook his head, moving to one side so his companion could join him in the doorway.

"Not at all." Zhao Yun studied the smooth contours of the young strategist's face, his smile gentle as the curve of the horizon outside. "I couldn't have asked for better company."

That brought a smile to Jiang Wei's face as well, and he turned to face the rain with upturned lips, his long ponytail ghosting over his shoulders in the faint breeze. Zhao Yun's eyes stayed right where they were, tracing every line of the other warrior's features with a detail only his fingers might have matched.

It had been a matter of days since Jiang Wei's arrival. Seven days – no more. And yet the Little Dragon could not stop the odd feeling inside of him that accompanied Boyue's presence… a feeling like grass stalks brushing each other in the wind, delicate and warm and just a little sharp. He enjoyed the time he spent with Jiang Wei. He was coming to enjoy it more than the time he spent with almost any other. There was something special about Zhuge Liang's protégé, though the Dragon Warrior could not have guessed at what.

"Zilong?"

Jiang Wei's voice startled Zhao Yun from his thoughts, and he shook his head to clear it, refocusing on the deep eyes that were scanning his face. The young strategist scuffed one boot against the ground, his gaze darting back to the pouring rain for an instant before he met Zhao Yun's eyes.

"I… I have a… concern."

The Little Dragon felt his forehead furrowing, his expression changing to match his companion's almost without conscious thought. "If there's anything I can do…" His offer needed no conclusion, and it trailed away under the heavy air as Jiang Wei smiled, his countenance more complicated than it had been moments before.

"Yes, I… I hope there is. During training, I've been feeling a little… honestly, I simply can't keep up with the other generals here. My skills are not on par with those of my instructor, and I worry that Guan Yu will become impatient with me."

Zhao Yun laughed a little, the sound cutting its way through the tendrils of the storm like music from a faraway pavilion. One warm hand came up to light on Jiang Wei's shoulder, as steady as the rhythm of the rain around them.

"Boyue… if you were as good as your instructor, what point would there be in a lesson?"

Jiang Wei's face seemed to redden a little at the question, and Zhao Yun found that his smile was growing deeper, encouraged by the grasses brushing one another somewhere inside his heart.

"I have seen you practicing, Boyue. And in my opinion, you are a fine warrior."

Jiang Wei bowed a little, but his eyes remained troubled, dark with more than the thick clouds above them. Zhao Yun shook his head and raised his other hand to find his companion's open shoulder, drawing the young strategist's eyes up to his own once again.

"But if you're truly that worried, I can assist you in one way. Would you be willing to take me as your instructor instead?"

Jiang Wei's eyes widened at the offer, and the Little Dragon found himself staring long into their depths, captivated by the reflection of the falling rain mirrored within them. Boyue's nodding disrupted the image, a motion that grew softer as his expression gradually became hesitant once again.

"Yes, Zilong… I'd be honored. But you… you wouldn't be ashamed to have such an unworthy pupil?"

Zhao Yun shook his head, his hands tightening on his companion's shoulders as though trying to send a little confidence into the other man. "No, Boyue. Whatever class a warrior you are now, I will help you rise to heights you've only dreamed about – if you'll let me."

Jiang Wei's smile was no longer stiff, and his eyes closed in gratitude as all nervousness vanished from his posture, chased away by the Little Dragon's soothing voice and the steady beat of the rain above his head. Zhao Yun watched him in silence, and caught himself wondering if he had agreed to tutor Jiang Wei out of kindness or out of deference to the strange preoccupation curling up between his ribs.

"I'd like that."

Zhao Yun nodded, his thoughts chasing unanswered questions as Jiang Wei's voice dissipated into the ceaseless storm.

"As would I, Boyue. As would I."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Originally done as a request, this story is a series of short moments that, together, show the transformation of Zhao Yun and Jiang Wei's relationship from friendship to romance. The emphasis in this story's creation was on imagery and emotion, which is why the plot remained extremely simple throughout. In either case—my first time experimenting with this pairing, and though I don't foresee writing about them again in the near future, I suppose it's not impossible.

Pairing: Zhao Yun x Jiang Wei

Warnings: None.

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**Falling Flowers**

_First Lesson_

"For the upcoming battle, I would like you to direct the troops on the northern side, Jiang Wei."

Jiang Wei's glance shot up to find his master's face, his eyes dark and wide with a surprise that broke his breath. "Me, Prime Minister?" Zhuge Liang's nod sent a thread of cold uncertainty down his spine, and the young warrior shook his head, hair trailing like a wavering scarf behind his shoulders. "I've only been here a month—"

"A month is plenty long enough," Zhuge Liang murmured, fluttering his fan dismissively before his lips. "You've been making fine progress, and you have great potential as a strategist. I believe the appropriate time for a test is at hand."

Jiang Wei felt his pulse becoming faster in his wrists, one more manifestation of the concern that was wrinkling his brow. "A test? Prime Minister, you cannot intend to test me when there are others' lives on at stake—"

Zhuge Liang rose from his seat, and Jiang Wei instinctively bowed his head, watching with lowered eyes as Shu's great strategist moved toward the door behind him, silken robes pooling and rippling around his confident steps like overflowing water.

"There is nothing to be concerned about, Jiang Wei. I will place Zhao Yun at the head of that unit. He should be more than capable of handling any trouble that you encounter."

At the mention of the Dragon officer, Jiang Wei felt something clench in his heart, like a great hand crushing a chrysanthemum and abandoning the twisted petals beneath his ribs. The young warrior felt himself breaking his kneel, and in an instant he was facing the door, worry and shattered flowers chasing each other across his face. But Zhuge Liang was already gone, and only the gently waving tent flap remained, taunting him with its lazy motion.

Jiang Wei leaned back into the table, and against his will one hand strayed to rest over his heart, hesitant fingertips measuring the beat of his pulse. He tried to recapture the exact feeling that had shot through him at Zhao Yun's name, but it was gone, nothing more now than a dull knot of concern in his stomach.

Why? Jiang Wei closed his eyes, and a picture of Liu Bei's famed warrior came to his mind, accompanied by the aftertaste of an emotion he simply could not place. Why had the thought of Zhao Yun's life in his hands added such an element of terror to Zhuge Liang's instructions? Zhao Yun was a competent general—perhaps the greatest Jiang Wei had ever known. And yet…

Nor was this the first time thoughts of the Little Dragon had brought on strange feelings in the young strategist. If anything, the feeling was coming oftener the more time he spent in the general's company. Sometimes it felt as though Zhao Yun were a river, and Jiang Wei the bed where he ran—every movement the great officer made changed the contours of Jiang Wei's mind just a little, molding the young strategist into his matching shape…

"Boyue?"

Jiang Wei started at his name, and his eyes flashed open to find that the subject of his thoughts was standing in front of him, backlit by the summer sunshine streaming through the doorway. There was an aspect of concern in Zhao Yun's pensive face, and he moved forward with gentle steps until he was close enough to place on hand on Jiang Wei's shoulder, his touch sending a tremor through the younger man.

Jiang Wei found himself forced to swallow against a mouth that had not been dry mere moments before, and he became suddenly conscious of his back against the strategy table, preventing a step away from the nearness of the Dragon officer. Zhao Yun's eyes were warm—as warm as his hand, which might have been part of the sun itself for the power that his touch was radiating through Jiang Wei.

"Boyue, are you all right? Zhuge Liang rejoined the council almost a quarter of an hour ago… what have you been doing here?"

Surprise flickered across Jiang Wei's face at the assertion of how time had gotten away from him, and then he let his eyes fall closed, turning to face the wide expanse of the Prime Minister's maps and bracing both hands against the table.

"I… I cannot do this, Zilong." Though he couldn't see him, Jiang Wei felt the surprise radiating from the other warrior, drawing him a few steps closer as the strategist shook his head. "The Prime Minister has asked me to take charge of the northern unit, with you at its head. But I… I cannot do it. I cannot gamble so many innocent lives on my unworthy intellect."

Jiang Wei tried not to wonder whether it were the lives of the soldiers or the life of the man behind him that was truly digging worried fingernails into his palm. Two hands resting on his shoulders saved him from having to answer that question, and a chuckle brushed his ears as Zhao Yun's voice filled the tent, thick with the closeness between them and the reassurance of his smile.

"I am glad to hear that I will be with you."

Jiang Wei blinked at the words he had not expected, and he turned to face the older general once more, who was close enough now that he could almost taste the Little Dragon's breath. Zhao Yun smiled once more, his hands steady as stone on the young strategist's shoulders.

"I had worried that I might not be near enough to look after you in the coming battle. I am greatly relieved to hear that I have been placed under your control." Jiang Wei opened his mouth in protest, but Zhao Yun shook his head and the young strategist obeyed, dissolving the words halfway across his tongue. "I know not why you think so little of yourself, Boyue. But I do know your brilliance—and I trust you with my life, and the life of my soldiers."

The words settled into Jiang Wei's heart, and it felt as though they were dissolving an ice flow that Zhuge Liang's orders had created, calming his worried pulse with the warmth of Zhao Yun's voice and the gentle curve of his lips. The general laughed a little, his exhale brushing Jiang Wei's face.

"My men trust my judgment, and I trust yours. I will follow your instructions even to the ends of the earth. All that remains to ask is, do you trust me enough to leave your protection in my hands?"

Jiang Wei held Zhao Yun's earnest gaze for a long moment, and then he closed his eyes, feeling warmth he was unaccustomed to rising in his cheeks.

"Yes, Zilong. I would trust you with my life… and more."

So much more.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Originally done as a request, this story is a series of short moments that, together, show the transformation of Zhao Yun and Jiang Wei's relationship from friendship to romance. The emphasis in this story's creation was on imagery and emotion, which is why the plot remained extremely simple throughout. In either case—my first time experimenting with this pairing, and though I don't foresee writing about them again in the near future, I suppose it's not impossible.

Pairing: Zhao Yun x Jiang Wei

Warnings: None.

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**Falling Flowers**

_First Wound_

The sky was too blue to suit him.

For the first time in weeks that had been colored by afternoon showers and the warning wind that preceded them, not a cloud marred the high expanse of the heavens, which arched across the landscape like a great carpet wrapped around and around the world, the sun a brilliant jewel embroidered into its center. The day was calm, and bright, and each tendril of breeze was like the touch of an innocent finger, far softer than the stormy winds that had preceded it so many days.

From his place beneath the outstretched arms of a rustling tree, Zhao Yun looked up at the endless sky, and the leaves made puzzled shadows across his handsome face, each patch of darkness seeming to ask why he chose to sit in shade when presented with so much sunlight. But the Little Dragon was silent, still except for the hands that were slowly sharpening his spear, one careful stroke at a time.

It was a beautiful day, true. But the day's beauty did not match the bitterness lingering on the great general's tongue—for once, he might have wished for a rainstorm.

"Zilong?"

Zhao Yun started in his seat, and he glanced up to find the patient eyes of his lord staring back at him, bathed in radiant sunlight that did little to soothe the concern on his face. The Dragon officer paused for a moment and then rose to his feet, setting his spear to one side so that the weapon did not interfere with his short bow.

"My lord. Were you seeking me?"

Lord Liu Bei regarded his warrior with a solemn stare, one hand smoothing the lines of his moustache. "I was, yes—though not on my own account. Why have you made yourself so difficult to find?"

Zhao Yun glanced beyond his lord's shoulder toward the Shu camp, which rested a near distance away between the slopes of two verdant hills, its simple tents adding patchwork to the uniform backdrop. Just as quickly, his eyes moved away—though not quickly enough to stop the icy fingers of guilt from slipping into his stomach again, retreating up his spine only to put a hitch in his breath.

"I did not think I would be needed," Zhao Yun answered at last, the sole of one boot scraping against the soil. Liu Bei remained silent a moment in his turn, and then one steady hand came up to rest on the Little Dragon's shoulder, captivating his eyes with the comforting touch.

"It is on Jiang Wei's errand that I've come to find you."

His words were simple, and his voice level, but nonetheless the reply stiffened Zhao Yun's muscles in their frame, turning his face to the rolling fields so that Liu Bei could not read his eyes. The hand in his chest tightened to a twisting fist, and in a moment before the general found himself forced to speak, daring his words to relieve the pressure against his heart.

"Why… what would he want with me?"

Each words was laced with the poison of self-reproach, clear to any who would hear it—as Liu Bei did, his hand tightening around the stoic shoulder of the man before him. The lord of Shu shook his head a little, and the motion caught his officer's attention, pulling unwilling eyes back to the gaze of an old, forgiving friend.

"He will not blame you, Zilong." Liu Bei's voice had gotten softer with his reassurance, a mimic to the breeze barely chasing Zhao Yun's ponytail. "None of us do. It was a simple error in judgment; I cannot say I would not have made it myself, in your position."

Zhao Yun found that he had no answer to his lord's gentle logic, despite the anguish that had taken root in his stomach and was growing more pronounced with every soothing word. Even if Jiang Wei _were_ able to forgive his mistake, the Little Dragon was not at all sure he would be able to forgive himself—and how could he? It had been Jiang Wei's first battle, and Zhao Yun's orders had been so simple…

Liu Bei waited for his silence to break, and when it did not the lord of Shu bent to retrieve his warrior's fine weapon, placing his open hand against the general's back and moving with him toward the bustling encampment. Zhao Yun's steps were heavy with unspoken resistance, but he did not defy his lord's quiet order, his gaze motionless against the ground as his own words echoed through his troubled mind.

_Do you trust me enough to leave your protection in my hands?_

He had been given that trust, without condition. He had vowed to protect the brilliant boy Zhuge Liang had hand-selected from the ranks of Wei—had promised himself that, no matter the cost to his own well-being, he would let no harm come to the young strategist. How had he failed, when the task had seemed so straightforward? And how could Jiang Wei ask to see him, in spite of that failure?

_I would trust you with my life… and more._

And more. At the time, the unsaid lingering at the end of Jiang Wei's answer had intrigued the Little Dragon, and he had wished for the opportunity to ask that question, to read the mind of the young man who had been captivating his thoughts more and more each day. But what right had Zhao Yun to wonder what Jiang Wei had meant now, when it had become so clear he could not even protect that life as he'd promised?

Zhao Yun's thoughts halted his steps some feet before the dark tent they had been soundlessly approaching, and Liu Bei turned back to look at him, patience lining his battle-weary countenance. The Dragon officer was searching for his words, but he could find none despite the agitation of his ashamed mind, and the lord of Shu had his response prepared, simple as the smile that had caught his ready lips.

"Would you leave him alone, then, when he's requested your company?"

The Little Dragon's eyes narrowed in surprise, and his tongue found the voice it had been missing mere moments before, the ensuing question sharper than he'd meant it to be.

"Alone?"

Liu Bei shook his head slightly, his glance flitting to a flock of birds passing overhead like the fragments of a scattered cloud. "Zhuge Liang has other matters to attend to, and I cannot stay with him now. What would you have me do?"

Zhao Yun found that his throat had gotten tight, and he swallowed against the pressure, searching within himself for the courage he had never yet found lacking. He had faced thousands of Wei soldiers with his might alone when his lord's son was abandoned at Chang Ban—what then was so frightening about the apology he owed a friend?

Perhaps only the possibility that his apology would be rejected.

Liu Bei was watching him in methodical silence, and there was a wisdom in his lord's eyes that Zhao Yun had long ago learned to trust, following Liu Bei's moral compass even when it contradicted his own. So Shu's Dragon officer straightened his stance and took his last steps through the glowing sunlight, leaving the warmth of the summer day and its crystalline sky behind him with the fall of a tent flap.

Inside, Zhao Yun found himself blind; the thick canvas of the tent was strong enough to block all but the weakest remnants of the sun's rays, and after the glory of the afternoon his eyes could make out nothing but indistinct shapes lining the structure's sloped interior. The brief burst of light that had accompanied him into the tent stirred motion somewhere ahead, and the Little Dragon moved that way, his steps as unsure as his eyes in the dim, silent air.

Long before he reached the figure whose body and bedroll were slowly becoming clear, a voice unburdened by the absence of light reached out to him, and it paused the general's feet against the uneven floor, stirring the guilt in his quickened heartbeat again.

"Zilong?"

Jiang Wei's voice was quiet, but somehow is seemed strong in spite of that—strong and sure in the darkness, and far warmer than Zhao Yun had expected. The Little Dragon remained motionless long enough to hold a deep breath and release it, and then he quickened his pace, a scant few steps bringing him to the edge of Jiang Wei's bedding.

"Boyue…"

"I was worried that you wouldn't come."

Zhao Yun closed his eyes, a mild wave of guilt sweeping through him at the words—he hadn't wanted to, and had it not been for Liu Bei, he might not have set foot in the silent tent until its patient had long recovered. The feeling was weaker than the shame that had possessed his mind all afternoon, but it was still enough to propel the Dragon officer to his knees, dropping his forehead all the way to the floor in a full bow.

"Forgive me, Boyue."

The words escaped without his permission, and Zhao Yun bit down on his tongue, angry at his own request. He had sworn to himself that he wouldn't ask that of the wounded strategist; he deserved Jiang Wei's scorn, and his fury, and the resentment that the younger man must harbor somewhere in his heart. He deserved those emotions, and he meant to accept them as long as Jiang Wei held them…

"I failed you. You trusted me to protect you, and I was unable to fulfill even that simple task. Because of my incompetence, your arm…"

He could hear Jiang Wei shifting in his blankets, and then a soft hand reached out to touch his face, covered as much by bandages as by skin. Zhao Yun raised his head to see that Zhuge Liang's apprentice had slipped into a sitting position, leaning back on his good hand as the other one—the one that was wrapped again and again with thick linen, hiding the wounds that the Little Dragon shouldn't have allowed—followed the lines of his companion's face.

The light was still too dim to make out Jiang Wei's eyes, but Zhao Yun could see his smile, gentle as the sky outside and twice as soothing.

"There is nothing to forgive, Zilong," the young man murmured, withdrawing his hand to rest in his blanketed lap. "My arm will be fine in a matter of days. And you did not fail me. I am the one who sent you from my camp, remember? How could you expect to protect me after I sent you away?"

Zhao Yun straightened to a kneeling position as Jiang Wei's voice filled his ears, and he moved forward until he was seated just at the young strategist's side, facing his injured friend through the thick darkness. He searched Jiang Wei's countenance in the shadows, but there was no guessing at the level of fatigue the younger man's smile might be concealing; the general shook his head, searching his companion's gaze in the meager light.

"Why, Boyue? Why did you send me to the main camp? Liu Bei had Guan Yu and Zhang Fei with him… he was in no danger. Why did you send me away?"

Jiang Wei laughed a little, but the sound seemed breathless to Zhao Yun, as though he were trying to laugh into the face of a fierce wind. Something sharpened inside the Little Dragon—something like the edges of a blooming thistle, bothering his stomach with anxious prickles as guilt made way for worry at the forefront of his mind.

Zhao Yun reached one arm around Jiang Wei's shoulders, offering support for his upright position, and the younger man leaned into him, heavy and tired against the Dragon officer's arm. The contact played with the warrior's heartbeat, pushing it just a little faster than before—but he was waiting for Jiang Wei's answer, so he paid the change in rhythm no mind, all his attention centered on the breath his friend was drawing.

"There was an army moving south along the plain. I was… worried for Lord Liu Bei. I know…"

The young man hesitated, and for a moment Zhao Yun was afraid that he had lost the strength to speak, a fear that tightened his arm around the silent strategist. But soon Jiang Wei was speaking again, and the Little Dragon concluded that his companion had only been searching for words, a realization that dulled the worry in his mind back to a low simmer.

"I know Lord Liu Bei is not my responsibility. I know I was set to other tasks in the battle, and that my focus should have remained with them. But during the battle, I realized… I realized that, no matter what happened to me, I needed to protect Lord Liu Bei. His is the virtue that makes this kingdom worth building, and his is the voice that inspired me to fight in the first place…"

Jiang Wei was shaking his head, and the movement brushed his ponytail across Zhao Yun's arm, each strand tickling like the touch of a falling leaf. There was a note of finality in his voice, like the last harmony of a lute soaring through an audience hall, sweet as an embodied memory.

"I realized that… I want to protect that dream, in any way that I can. My life means so little compared with his. That is why I sent you."

A quiver slid down Zhao Yun's spine, summoned by the declaration that he himself had made so many years ago—that everyone who came to serve Liu Bei eventually made, awed by his virtue and an understanding of how valiant the enterprise he had undertaken truly was. The Dragon officer could remembered the moment when he had accepted the same thing: that he was but one small piece in a goal so much larger than he was, and that his own life was insignificant compared to that goal's completion. But…

But somehow, it felt so different to hear that from Jiang Wei. It was not that he doubted the young strategist's sincerity, or that Liu Bei's dream had lost its meaning in the Little Dragon's eyes. It was…

Perhaps it was just that Jiang Wei's life was coming to mean so much to Zhao Yun, that the thought of surrendering it, for any reason, made his heart shiver.

Zhao Yun felt a sigh breaking between his lips, and he found Jiang Wei's eyes through the dark, holding that self-sacrificing gaze as tightly as he could—as tightly as he wanted to hold the young man himself, to wrap both worried arms around him and keep him steady as the weakness of his body began to show on his face. His companion was growing heavier against his arm now, leaning back in fatigue, and the general's eyes softened in concern, gentle like his voice in the tent's unyielding darkness.

"And while you protect his dream, Boyue… who is going to protect you?"

Jiang Wei smiled, and he leaned forward to rest his forehead against Zhao Yun's shoulder, his eyes closed beneath tired bangs. The general wondered if his companion could feel his heart, beating irregular time as the young man's breath warmed his neck—and there was a warm feeling in his stomach as well, clearing away the thistles and the worry and the guilt that had been festering there so long.

A feeling something like the sunflower he'd felt at their first meeting, uncurling its petals as though to reach around Jiang Wei and pull him inside of the Dragon officer, where he could rest in the safety of a devoted heart.

"You'll protect me, Zilong… won't you?"

Zhao Yun closed his eyes, fingers sifting through the strands of the young man's ponytail and brushing them smooth against his back.

"I will, Boyue." The vow lifted a great stone from his shoulders, leaving his arms free to pull Jiang Wei into a quiet embrace. "And I will never fail you again."


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Originally done as a request, this story is a series of short moments that, together, show the transformation of Zhao Yun and Jiang Wei's relationship from friendship to romance. The emphasis in this story's creation was on imagery and emotion, which is why the plot remained extremely simple throughout. In either case—my first time experimenting with this pairing, and though I don't foresee writing about them again in the near future, I suppose it's not impossible.

Pairing: Zhao Yun x Jiang Wei

Warnings: None.

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**Falling Flowers**

_First Kiss_

If there was one sound Jiang Wei had missed during his recovery, it was the voice of the river.

In preparation for their previous battle, the Shu army had camped along one slope of a gently descending ridge, at the base of which ran a slim current of water, useful for more practical purposes than the beauty the young strategist had admired. Prior to his injury – a little embarrassing, perhaps, as the outcome of his first battle – Jiang Wei had spent a fair amount of his time sitting on the edge of this waterway, seeing in its crystalline flow a reflection of the Prime Minister's calm, unwavering wisdom.

There was a bank composed of rocky outcroppings a short distance from camp, and it was here that Shu's newest officer came to ponder his lessons. Capturing Zhuge Liang's insight into one simple concept was as impossible as containing the water for any length of time between his hands; but the comparison was comforting for Jiang Wei nonetheless, and made his master's lectures seem less daunting, as though the gently laughing water were translating the Prime Minister's words into something he could understand.

He had missed that laughter, during his few weeks of separation in the medical tent. But today, it was not the gentle rumble of the water that drew Jiang Wei's steps toward the river; it was a distant flair of music, haunting the bank like birdsong and leading his steps along the edge of the playful stream.

As he came nearer to its source, Jiang Wei identified the instrument as a lute, and he pushed through the light foliage, curious to find the player amid the river growth. One hand pushed a final clump of branches out of his way, and the young strategist stopped, watching the rock-littered shore ahead in silence.

The musician was not whom he had guessed, but he was far from disappointed to see the familiar figure leaning back against a water-smoothed stone. Zhao Yun's fingers paused in midair, and he glanced at the younger man with a smile that made Jiang Wei's hands tingle, though that might have been a passing effect of his healing injury.

"Boyue."

The name said so much more than seemed possible for two syllables, and Jiang Wei held his breath, studying that kind face and the shadowy hair framing his companion's features.

Zhao Yun had visited him often during his recovery, and each muffled conversation had left the young strategist with an irregular pulse and one hand over his puzzled heart. Puzzled because the Little Dragon's presence seemed to open something in him—something warm and soft, but exciting nonetheless, like a cluster of oleanders waving in the summer wind.

Jiang Wei didn't know yet why Zhao Yun's hand on his arm felt so much softer than anyone else's, or why the Dragon warrior's smile made him warm the way even sunshine did not. But he did know that he wanted the feelings to continue, for as long as they could.

"Come. Sit with me."

Jiang Wei obliged picking his way across the familiar rocks until he had reached the general's side. He eased down onto a rock beside Zhao Yun's seat, and the Little Dragon cocked his chin to one side, ponytail sliding down his back like the reflection of the river before them.

"I am glad to see you up and moving. It seemed Zhuge Liang might never allow you out of the tent again."

Jiang Wei laughed a little, shaking his head at the jest that was perhaps too close to the truth. "The Prime Minister did not see a minor injury as any reason to halt my lessons. If anything, he wanted to move faster, as I had little else to do."

A shadow that had nothing to do with the trees above them fell across Zhao Yun's face, and the general set his lute aside, balancing the stringed instrument against the rocks so that he could place one hand on Jiang Wei's knee.

"Boyue…"

Jiang Wei shook his head again, and though his laugh did not accompany the motion this time, he was smiling all the same.

"Please, Zilong. It's long forgotten. Please just enjoy the afternoon with me."

Zhao Yun looked reluctant to abandon his apology halfway, but his lips fell closed again at the younger man's request, and he shifted into a more comfortable kneel.

Jiang Wei looked out across the stream, half for the pleasure of the sparkling water and half to distract himself from his companion's pulse, steady and captivating against his knee. But that was difficult, because he didn't truly want to be distracted—he wanted to soak in the feeling of physical comfort, the reassurance and safety that came with the Little Dragon's simple touch…

"Look, Boyue."

Jiang Wei blinked, and his gaze followed Zhao Yun's outstretched hand, studying the trees beyond them until a flicker of movement caught his eye. An oriole was hopping between the slight branches, his shining yellow coat floating like a premonition of autumn between the thick green leaves—then something startled the small bird and it took off, bright eyes gleaming beneath a thin black mask.

The young strategist turned back to the general, his fingers exploring the smooth texture of the rock.

"You must have summoned him with your playing, Zilong. Orioles are the symbol of music."

"And friendship," Zhao Yun reminded him, and his hand seemed to grow warmer on the warrior's knee, sending a similar jolt of warmth into his stomach. Jiang Wei stared into those dark, gentle eyes, swallowing harder than he liked.

Friendship. Not the kind of friendship he'd ever experienced before, he was sure. Something deeper, and stronger; something he didn't want to let go of him…

"Here. Play for me."

The young strategist was startled from his thoughts as the lute suddenly appeared in his lap, released from Zhao Yun's gentle and encouraging hands. The Little Dragon was smiling at him, but Jiang Wei hesitated, the instrument resting halfway between his seated position and the general's kneel.

"I don't know how," he admitted after a moment, ducking his head as though to hide his embarrassment from the playful voice of the river. Zhao Yun only chuckled, inching closer so that he could push the neck of the lute back against Jiang Wei's collarbone.

"Then I will teach you. Everyone should know how. It's a beautiful instrument."

Jiang Wei kept his eyes on the lute, his gaze tracing the pear-shaped body and the strings that sparkled in the sunlight.

"It was beautiful when you played it."

Zhao Yun's smile seemed a little brighter, but the Dragon officer shook his head, undeterred by the compliment and his companion's clear reluctance. The general wrapped his right hand around Jiang Wei's left and placed it against the narrow neck, holding the younger man's eyes with his patience gaze.

"It will be even better in your hands—you have the fingers for it. Try, Boyue. Just a little."

Jiang Wei's cheeks felt warm—far warmer than the sunlight could have inspired—and the feeling had spread down into his stomach, summoned by Zhao Yun's guiding touch. A touch like leaves and blossoms on his skin; so gentle and yet full of such intangible energy.

The young strategist could hardly feel the strings beneath his fingers, so preoccupied was he with the palm pressed against the back of his hand. Somehow he managed to pick out a few notes, pressing the flats of all four fingers against the strings in a clumsy chord. Zhao Yun laughed, a sound like the summer breeze high above them, and it drew Jiang Wei's eyes back to his.

"That's right. Here—use your fingernails to pluck the strings. Try pressing only one string at a time."

A brief struggle of notes filled the clearing, each one simple and slow with an awkward silence threading between them. Zhao Yun shadowed his fingers over Jiang Wei's and moved them calmly back and forth, humming under his breath to the fractured tune—and though Jiang Wei tried to pay attention to the motions themselves, all he could think about was the contact between them. How the Little Dragon's fingertips were skirting his skin and how soothing that calm voice was, even when it echoed notes so badly mangled…

At last the song came to a clumsy stop, and Jiang Wei lifted his hands from the strings, pulling them back toward his body. But Zhao Yun still had hold of his wrists, and he tangled his fingers between the young strategist's, keeping the lute firmly in the embarrassed young man's arms.

"Very good, Boyue. You did very well for a first try."

Jiang Wei laughed a little, staring at their entwined fingers against the wood of the silent lute.

"You're too kind, Zilong."

"How could I be too kind to you?"

Jiang Wei's eyes snapped up at the question, startled to find the Dragon officer's gaze focused entirely on the details of his face, searching them as carefully as a lingering touch might. The young strategist felt his heartbeat begin to race in his wrists, and only the light grip of the older warrior kept him still, their bodies close in the still summer air.

Zhao Yun pressed Jiang Wei's hands to the lute strings, and he leaned forward in his kneel, both palms flat against the stone of his companion's seat.

"Try again."

Jiang Wei watched the Little Dragon in silence for a moment—took in the shortened distance between them, and the angle of Zhao Yun's strong arms, and the curtailed intensity in the general's eyes, like the power in a thunderstorm before it broke. Then he took a deep breath, and the sparing music began again, missing beats just like the strategist's heart.

Zhao Yun's face remained thoughtful for a moment, his concentration so firm that Jiang Wei lost track of the rhythm he was attempting to create. Then the Dragon officer leaned forward, pressing the lute between them as his hands came up to steady the younger man's shoulders.

Jiang Wei felt the daylight disappearing from his face as Zhao Yun's shadow took its place, the music vanishing from his mind as the general's fingers tightened in his shirt. Then his eyes slipped closed, and there was nothing but a warm pressure on his lips—warm like the sun above them, and soft like the water spilling away from his feet, and endless as the sky arcing between horizons. Jiang Wei held his breath but Zhao Yun stole it all the same, leaving him slightly open-mouthed as the Little Dragon pulled back far enough to push their foreheads together.

"If I lived my life for no other purpose, I could never give you as much as you deserve, Boyue."

Jiang Wei smiled, warm with the oleanders that were waving inside of him.

"You have given me so much more than that already," he replied, setting the lute to one side. Then he closed his eyes again and pressed both hands against Zhao Yun's chest, waiting for the sunlight kisses with a steady, satisfied heartbeat.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Originally done as a request, this story is a series of short moments that, together, show the transformation of Zhao Yun and Jiang Wei's relationship from friendship to romance. The emphasis in this story's creation was on imagery and emotion, which is why the plot remained extremely simple throughout. In either case—my first time experimenting with this pairing, and though I don't foresee writing about them again in the near future, I suppose it's not impossible. This is the last chapter; I hope the story was enjoyable.

Pairing: Zhao Yun x Jiang Wei

Warnings: None.

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**Falling Flowers**

_First Line_

There was something dynamic about the face of the moon tonight.

Zhao Yun had always held an appreciation for the night sky, and for the moon especially. The alternating light and dark patches, shining out of the black sky like a mirror losing surface, seemed to him a reflection also of the feelings in his own heart, each delicate shift of emotion playing out on the great white countenance just as clearly.

Nonetheless, this was the first time in the Dragon officer's memory that the moon had worn a readable expression, the honest curve of mottled shadow turned up at the edge like a secret smile. The full moon was bright enough in the cold, clear air that it almost extinguished the moody gray curled across its surface—but not quite, and the threat of demolition had brought a new intensity to its face, showing the Little Dragon its smile as clearly as if the expression had been drawn with ink.

Then again, perhaps the moon wasn't truly responsible for the change in its image. Perhaps the clarity of that smile was just another reflection of the man who stood beneath it.

Zhao Yun wasn't quite smiling, but there was a growing light in his eyes, and it had little to do with the moon, which his restless glance shortly abandoned to the folds of the sky. The renowned general had found something more interesting to look at away to his left, and it was here that his dark gaze settled, following the conversation of the warriors who had gathered at the door to the mess tent in a small, unintentional huddle.

A few of Liu Bei's finest soldiers were tipping back their flasks and drinking cups, silhouetted against the light of the tent's jovial interior, and it was the young man at their center who had caught Zhao Yun's attention, his ponytail tossed by the force of Zhang Fei's friendly hand on his shoulder. Jiang Wei opened his mouth to speak, but his words were swallowed by another pronouncement from the drunken oath brother, and the strategist pushed them back, too busy keeping him balance to notice the eyes that watched him from across the campground, a chuckle now matching the amused stare.

Zhao Yun leaned back on his heels, silently exploring the feeling that had settled in his chest like windblown flower petals. Every beat of his contented heart seemed to stir the scattered petals a little—or perhaps it wasn't his pulse that caused the shifting. Perhaps it was a heartbeat a little farther away, though still present in his mind…

"Ah. So that is where my pupil has gone."

The Dragon officer started a little to find that Shu's great strategist had appeared beside him, steps all but noiseless in the darkness. Zhao Yun's bow was abrupt with his surprise, the slight jerk chasing a few words from his lips.

"Lord Zhuge Liang… forgive me. I did not notice you."

Zhuge Liang's war fan flickered across his face as though taking the place of his hand in brushing the apology aside, the white feathers radiant with the thick moonlight.

"No harm done, Zhao Yun. Perhaps quite the contrary."

The Prime Minister's eyes were deep black behind his unchanging smile, and all of a sudden the moon's gentle smirk did not seem as welcome to the Little Dragon, bearing such resemblance as it did to Zhuge Liang's expression.

Unnerved by the other man's eternally enigmatic mind, Zhao Yun turned back toward the mess tent, his eyes settling once more on the cheerful brigade surrounding his companion. It was left to Zhuge Liang to break the silence, which he did after a minute had passed between them without remark, a chuckle that sounded somehow condescending preceding his words.

"I was a bit concerned at first about his aptitude for life here. But it appears that Jiang Wei has found his place in Shu very well, after all."

Zhao Yun exhaled softly and a nod went with his breath, the subject of conversation softening his countenance.

"He is certainly a worthy addition to our army. And it seems the generals are rather fond of him as well."

His comment coincided almost perfectly with Zhang Fei's half-empty flask of wine spilling all across the young strategist's shirt, and Zhuge Liang arched a thin eyebrow, his smile seeming to gain an aspect of honest amusement for a moment before secrecy once more shrouded his expression. Zhao Yun chuckled in spite of himself, watching as Jiang Wei tried to stop Zhang Fei's apologetic hands from making the stain worse, and the Prime Minister tapped his chin, his gaze passing between the young warrior and Liu Bei's famous Dragon general in equal measure.

"Fond may not be a strong enough word, it would seem. He does suit the ranks impressively, nonetheless. I confess I was not initially convinced that he would prove an asset to the more intellectual side of our endeavor, as he can be unfortunately shy at times. But of course my fears have been laid to rest; he is becoming a remarkable strategist."

Zhao Yun glanced at the man beside him, trying to decipher the undercurrent of amusement lurking like a shadow beneath the compliment. In the end, he could not establish its cause, and settled for a reply, sending the man a shallow bow in conjunction with his words.

"I am sure his advancement stems from your instruction, Zhuge Liang."

Zhuge Liang only tipped his head, black hair flickering down his back like a restless sheet of silk. "Not at all, Zhao Yun. He is as much indebted to you, for taking him under your wing all this time."

This time the Dragon officer couldn't help his smile, any more than he could help the brightness of his eyes as he glanced back to the wine-washed warrior before them. Zhao Yun shook his head, watching the commotion with a sigh.

"In truth, he's had little need of me, Prime Minister. Most of his skills were only lacking confidence when he came. There's been very little for me to give him."

"Oh? And here I thought he went to you for everything."

A chill made its way down Zhao Yun's spine, and he straightened in his stance, eyes narrowing as they came back to the strategist's patient face. Something about the man's expression, now just one shade shy of an outright smirk, set the flower petals in the Dragon officer's chest swirling again, and his pulse increased with them, louder in his wary ears than it had been before.

"What are you talking about?" Zhao Yun asked at last, receiving one softly lifted shoulder in response.

"Nothing of particular importance, Lord Zhao Yun. Only the… shall we say… closer association Jiang Wei has developed with you than with any of the other warriors."

Now the general could feel that all his muscles had gone tight, sharply at attention as though Zhuge Liang had looked ready to strike him with a hand instead of his voice. Zhao Yun turned to face the other man fully, losing sight of the mess tent crowd with his pivot, and the Prime Minister's fan shot to his lips at the sudden motion, mocking surprise as effectively as his face.

"My, my… you will have to forgive me. I certainly had no intention of startling you."

The Dragon officer frowned, listening more closely to the strategist's tone than his to words. There was a kind of laughter in Zhuge Liang's steady voice, but it was not open, genial laughter—rather, the manner of laugh that was suited only to dark places, when there was no one around to hear it. The impression hardened Zhao Yun's features, and he watched his comrade's face with stern focus, trying to gauge the level of threat in Zhuge Liang's quirked lips.

How long had the Prime Minister known? And how had he come to his conclusions in the first place? There was no denying the man's sharp mind, but to make such a drastic assumption with so little information…

Zhuge Liang's eyebrows rose slowly in his face, though to Zhao Yun's gaze the change did not make his countenance more pleasant.

"Well… I see that I am no longer welcome to your company. That being the case, I will take my leave of you, General."

The Prime Minister stepped back a pace and turned toward the tents, but he paused there, his fan slipping just far enough down his face to reveal a deepening smirk.

"Before I go, however… I may as well inform you how futile it is to try to hide things from me, and advise you against doing so in the future. I suppose for now I shall keep my knowledge of these matters a secret, as I see no particular advantage to revealing them… of course, I make no promises as to my future endeavors. Do sleep well, Zilong."

And with that he was gone, sliding between the barrack tents and the supply crates with a grace that defied his measured footsteps.

Zhao Yun watched his departure with the same guarded frown, listening to his quickened pulse against the skin of his ears and slowly releasing the fists that his hands had wound themselves into. The echo of Zhuge Liang's words, inaudible to all but the general, prickled the back of his neck long after the man himself had disappeared, and whatever sense of peace had captivated the Little Dragon before had vanished as well, leaving the flower petals unsettled inside of him.

Zhao Yun glanced back to the mess tent. Jiang Wei was gone, no doubt released to change out of his accident-stained shirt. The disquiet in his heart rose up once again, and without forethought the Dragon officer found that he was moving, his pace increasing as he moved into the forest of scattered tents on all sides.

He did not look up at Zhang Fei's shout of greeting. He didn't stop to apologize to the soldier whose shoulder he bumped as he moved east through the camp. In truth, the general neither heard nor saw anything until he reached the front of Jiang Wei's tent, and there he paused only long enough to thrust the flap aside, stepping uninvited into the quiet lamplight.

His abrupt entrance startled the young strategist, who had just finished pulling a clean garment over his head and was still smoothing it down. Jiang Wei's hands leapt into a defensive position, and then relaxed with his exhale, confusion replacing surprise in coloring his smooth features.

"Zilong, you startled me. Is something wrong?"

Zhao Yun chose not to answer with his words, instead closing the distance between them and pulling the younger man without warning against his chest. Jiang Wei stiffened a little at the sudden embrace, and for a moment his hands were tight in the Dragon officer's shirt. But Zhao Yun was conscious only his heartbeat, strong and vibrant through the fabric of their clothes. The feeling alone sustained him until the young warrior calmed down enough to press his face against the general's neck, whispering to match the silence that surrounded them.

"Has something happened, Zilong?"

His voice was more urgent this time, in spite its softness, and his fingers tensed with the question. Zhao Yun shook his head in return, smoothing Jiang Wei's hair down against his back.

"No. Only I… I want to stay here for a moment. Just a moment, Boyue—you have my word."

Jiang Wei shifted in his arms, and the Little Dragon could feel the movement all through his companion's body, close enough that they might have shared one heartbeat without noticing the loss of the other. The young strategist sighed, his hands tangling absently into the general's long ponytail.

"Why here?" he asked, his voice soft like falling flowers. Zhao Yun shook his head.

"Everywhere but here, there is the world," he replied. "And the world will stand between you and I, if we let it."

Jiang Wei was silent for a long time—long enough that Zhao Yun's hands began to move over his back, brushing indefinite circles into his loose-hanging shirt. The fabric sliding across his skin made the Dragon officer's fingertips tingle, as though they had become raw with the slight contact alone. At last the young strategist stepped back far enough to look up at him, curious fingers rising to trace Zhao Yun's lips.

"Why stay only a moment, then? Why not stay for a lifetime?"

The Little Dragon smiled. "I fear you may tire of me before then, Boyue." Jiang Wei opened his mouth to protest, but a hand stopped him, light as the chuckle falling from Zhao Yun's lips. "And in any case, do they not expect you back as soon as you've found a clean shirt? I would hate to intrude upon your celebration."

Jiang Wei considered for a moment, his intelligent gaze soaking in the shadows. Then the young warrior wrapped his fingers between the general's and leaned up to press their foreheads together, his breath a soft wind against his companion's face.

"Would you go with me, then, Zilong? Back into the world?"

Zhao Yun laughed.

"If I were at your side, even the world might become bearable."

Jiang Wei returned his smile, his eyes shining now under the lamp's unsteady influence. His hand left Zhao Yun's when they crossed the night's threshold, but the warmth it imparted lingered there far longer, knitting into the general's soul as the young man's heartbeat had already done. Zhao Yun looked up at the brilliant moon, and back to the warrior beside him, and found that his earlier statement might need amending, if the brush of soft petals within his heart could be trusted.

Perhaps the world had the potential to be more than bearable, after all. Perhaps, in the right company, it could even be beautiful.

The End


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